Nowhere To Run
by Sonny13
Summary: When she was a baby, Hermione's parents were killed and she was sent to live with Bobby Singer. She had a destiny none of them could ever imagine. Her battles didn't end with Hogwarts and the Wizarding War. No, that was child play compared to the apocalypse. Demons, Devils and Dean are about to tip her life on it's head. But that's life as a hunter. Dean/Hermione
1. Chapter 1

It was storming that night. The wind snapped branches off trees and the rain poured sideways. There were no cars on the road, no people walking about, and no birds in the air. Everyone was inside their homes, sheltered from the weather and cuddled up beside warm fires.

A tall man stood on an old wooden porch and though he should have been dripping wet he remained untouched by the falling water, as did the precious package in his arms. The raven haired man lifted a strong arm and knocked on the painted door thrice, waiting stoically for it to be answered. There were loud footsteps and a muffled cuss before it swung open to reveal a grumpy middle aged man in overalls and a truckers cap, scowling at his visitor. A hand drifted up to scratch the beginnings of a beard as he growled, "What?"

"Bobby Singer," the man spoke loudly so he could hear over the crashing thunder. There was a beat as Bobby waited for him to continue, but the stranger just continued to stare unblinkingly.

"Yeah?" he snapped impatiently, anxious to get back to researching what his friend Rufus was sure was some kind of vampire cult over in Nebraska.

"This child has a destiny more important and grave than you can fathom. She is a witch and though it goes against all you know and believe, she is _good_."

"Excuse me?" Bobby hissed, his hand crawling to the knife stashed in his pocket. His muscles tensed as he readied himself for a potential fight.

"You'll find everything you'll need for her well-being already inside."

The man said nothing more, simply pushing the baby delicately over into his own arms. He had never been more confused. Instincts took over and he cradled it's head and clutched it to his body to shield it from the deadly weather. He looked down into it's large brown eyes and something inside of him twinged. The baby couldn't have yet turned one, but was already sporting thick dark hair on it's oval head.

The eyes blinked, breaking Bobby from his trance and he looked up at the stranger again, opening his mouth to speak. He didn't get the chance as two fingers lightly pressed to his temple, effectively butting him off. His eyes grew dazed and his face fell slack as the strange man carried out his orders and manipulated his mind just that little bit, swaying the gruff man to accept the child into his life and home along with the knowledge that her strand of power was good and pure.

Bobby sucked in a deep breath as the stranger removed his warm fingers and he clutched the child to his chest just that little bit tighter. He looked up at the man on his porch, the ability to speak alluding him for the moment.

The man smiled slightly, bowing his head and turned to leave, but not without speaking one more time.

"Her name is Hermione."

Then Bobby blinked. He was standing alone in his doorway, holding his daughter to his chest protectively. He wasn't sure why he was out here, all he knew was he had to get her inside out of the cold. She let out a low cry and he rocked her softly, hushed her quietly.

"It's okay Hermione, it's okay. C'mon, let's get you rugged up and ready for bed," he mumbled to her as he shut the door and made his way back to the lounge room where her milk and the fire awaited.


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: So Hermione's pretty OOC for pretty much the whole story. I just think she'd be a bit different if she had grown up with Bobby; she'd be more confident in herself, maybe more out-going and definitely more boy-ish. Her core elements are still there, but if she acts differently just know I've got it planned that way and it isn't a product of bad writing of her character. Dean is also OOC character and will be for the first few chapters, but that's just because he's a kid and hasn't yet been through everything that happened to make him who he was in the years leading up to the start of Supernatural. Enjoy :)_**

* * *

_Summer, 1986_

"Hermione!" her dad's call floated up through the crack in her door. The little seven year old girl burrowed further into her covers as she heard his heavy footsteps make their way up the stairs. "Hermione!"

She heard the creak of her old door as it was gently pushed open, and the sound of his boots on her red rug. He heaved a great sigh and sat on her bed, forcefully pulling back the sheets and staring her down until she looked up at him. "I'm sorry," she whimpered, crawling back up to her pillows and clutching her toy dragon to her chest. A large tear made its way down her pale cheek as she tried to hold in scared cries. "I didn't mean to do it."

"Hermione, it's alright," Bobby smiled tentatively. "Why don't you tell me how it happened."

"W-well," she began, licking her lips nervously, afraid he would think her insane. "I was reading Alice in Wonderland and I left my book on the couch to get a drink and when I came back Rumsfeld and chewed through it." Another tear fell. "I was just so mad, I don't know what happened. The lamp just exploded, I didn't touch it or anything I swear!"

Bobby smiled again, though anyone older could have seen it was tight and forced, and patted her small shoulder softly. "It's okay 'Mione, it was a mistake."

"I'm sorry," she cried again, practically leaping into his arms. He caught her with ease and rubbed her back consolingly. "Why do these things keep happening, Dad?"

He sighed, it was all he seemed to be doing these days. He didn't know what to tell her. He knew nothing about Wizarding culture, at least the good, non-satanic one. Until lately it had been smooth sailing, and he figured he could just keep quiet until she turned eleven. Yes, that seemed like the safest thing to do. "I don't know kid," he lied with a wince, hugging her trembling form close. He searched his mind for a way to distract her. "Hey, I've got a friend coming over tonight."

"Who?" she asked, finally letting him go. She sat back and embarrassedly wiped her tears away.

"His name's John, and he's got two sons," he told her with a smile. He had met John on a hunt not too long ago. The hunter would ring him whenever he needed information and didn't have time to research it himself. They had struck up something of a friendship, and when John had mentioned he was heading passed, he offered he and his boys a place to crash for the night. He rarely went on them these days, preferring to operate from home for Hermione's sake. When he did his long time friend, Melonie Trueman who owned the florist in town, came and babysat. "They're 3 and 7, John says they're a lot of fun," he told her enticingly.

"When will they get here?" she asked, looking up at him with big eyes. He nearly frowned at how red and saw they looked from crying, but kept his demeanour cheerful.

"Not until dark," he admitted, and she looked down in disappointment. "So how about you pick a record, and we'll play some music while you help me with that '67 Pontiac I've got sitting out back."

Bobby finally felt his tense back relax a little as she smiled a toothy little smile and jumped from her bed, reaching under it to pull out her old dirty boots then rushing over to her shelves to pick her favourite album. He stood and watched over her shoulder as she tried to decide between _Duran Duran_ and _Bon Jovi._ She finally went with the latter and Bobby grinned proudly. He had certainly influenced her music tastes for the better.

4 hours later and the family of two had just stepped back inside when there was a brisk knock on the front door. "I'll get it," Bobby told his daughter with an easy smile. "You go get changed." He pulled open the doors to see his friend standing there with a nearly blank face, a shy three year old in his arms and a smiling seven year old at his side.

He ushered them inside and greeted them warmly. He had met his kids once before, but they barely remembered him. He asked if they were hungry and once he got the affirmative he led them through to his kitchen slash dining room, running into Hermione in the doorway. "Oh!" she yelped in surprise as they rounded the corner. She was still in her grease covered jeans and top, her short hair messy and knotted from the wind.

"Though I told you to get dressed, little miss," he said, raising an eyebrow at her and adjusting his cap.

"Sorry," she muttered, looking at her feet shyly.

"John, boys, this is my daughter Hermione," he introduced cheerily for the kids sake. "'Mione, this is John Winchester and his boys Sam and Dean."

"Hi," she muttered, glancing up at Dean nervously. She never played with any kids her own age as Bobby home schooled her, ensuring she could have lessons on Wendigo's and Vampires as well as Math and English. He didn't want to raise her under any illusions that the world was all sugar and cream, so he taught her the basics so she would be prepared when she got older. He wasn't going to force her into hunting, but the way things were going it seemed like she might want to head down that path anyway. They had started target practice on her 7th birthday at her insistence, using knives and bb-guns. He had all the heavy duty stuff locked away safely in the basement until she at least went off to the school.

"Hey," the young Dean waved back awkwardly, also not accustomed to children other than Sammy.

"Why don't you go get changed, them you can go play while I get dinner ready?" Bobby told her. She nodded her head and scattered off obediently.

She had just changed into some clean jeans and purple top when there was a knock at her bedroom door. "Come in!" she shouted to who she assumed was her dad. She was surprised to find the kid, Dean, pushing open the door and standing there awkwardly. "Um, hi?"

"Uncle Bobby sent me up to see your room," he told her, a slight lisp in his voice. He was about her height with short dark hair and pale skin with freckles dotted over his nose and cheeks. His eyes were green, and he seemed friendly enough. "He said you like music?"

She nodded, not sure what to say and simply pointing to her shelves that held all of her vinyl records. He sauntered over somewhat confidently and started shifting through it like was his own. She leaned against the end of her bed frame, unsure how to act. Finally Dean broke the silence.

"You like AC/DC?" he asked doubtfully, holding up her copy of _Black Ice_.

She snapped her head up to look at him defensively. "Yeah," she replied honestly. "My dad only listens to rock," she admitted with a shrug, not that she minded. "So, so do I."

He nodded absently and put it down. "Good music," he complimented. Now that his hands weren't busy and he had nothing to do, he looked around her room. He frowned at the decoration; he'd never been in a girls room before but he'd assumed there'd be more pink and less mess. Most of the furniture was red or white, and her bookcase held some of the most strange items, most of which were books. Though mixed in with those were a pack of cards, a wrench, the head of a teddy bear, some candles, a ball of blue tack and what look like a slingshot.

"What?" Hermione asked carefully, noting his kind of sour look.

"Nothing," he replied a little too quickly, but continued at her look. "I guess I thought there'd be more pink... and dolls."

Now she was the one frowning as she looked around her room self-consciously. She'd seen girls on TV with make up and doll houses in their rooms, but she liked hers better. She was a hunter, after all, and hunters were tough. She didn't know what to say back to him, she wasn't sure he knew about 'the life', as her father called it, so instead she settled for, "Have you ever used a slingshot before?" He shook his head no, but the way his eyes lit up excitedly made her certain he had always wanted to try it. "C'mon, I'll show you!"

They ran down the stairs, heading for the back door. John called after them, but all he got in response was a hurried yell of assurance he'd be back for dinner from Dean and a laugh from Hermione. Bobby couldn't help but smile, he'd had a feeling the two would be fast friends.

* * *

_Winter, 1988_

"Sammy, just go to bed. Dad will be back soon, and if you're not asleep he won't be happy," Dean warned his younger brother. Sam just crossed his arms and shook his head. Dean tilted his head so it hit the back of Bobby's couch with a tired groan. They had been staying there for the past two days while Bobby and their dad were on a hunt three towns over. They'd be leaving in the morning, and if he didn't shower now he didn't know when he'd be getting another chance. "Fine, I'll be in the shower."

The older Winchester brother stormed off, not so much angry as he was just annoyed. Sam watched him go, looking down at the floor dejectedly. A warm body flopped down beside his and an arm wrapped around his shoulders. "Are you okay Sam?" Hermione asked him, tilting her head and watching as he frowned.

"I just wanna read a story," the five year old mumbled sadly, looking up at her with his big blue/green eyes. "Before bed."

She smiled at him softly, pushing her untameable hair off her face and nodding. "Okay."

Dean found them twenty minutes later, Sam curled up in bed with Hermione sitting on the chair beside him, reading from a book. Her voice was low and soft as she read, knowing the young boy was just drifting off. "What are you reading?" Dean whispered as he approached. She smiled and lifted up the paperback, showing him the colourful cover. "Peter Pan?"

"Uhuh," she confirmed with a smile, glancing at the sleeping boy and standing quietly to turn off the lamp and follow Dean out of the room. They walked down the stairs as silently as possible and made their way into the kitchen.

"I could really go for a beer," Dean stretched his arms above his head as he spoke with a grin.

"No," Hermione dead-panned, throwing him a look. "Sometimes you forget you're only 9." He rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue. She laughed and peered into the depths of her fridge and pulled out two cokes, throwing one to him. He caught it expertly and cracked it open, gesturing into the lounge.

"There's a horror movie on tonight," he told her with a grin. "_Hellraiser_, I think. Are you in?"

Hermione hesitated, she wasn't exactly a fan of the genre. She knew all too well just how real some of those story lines could be, "I don't know..."

"Why, are you scared?" Dean asked with a teasing grin. She immediately straightened her spine, glaring at him.

"Of course not!" she cried defensively, crossing her arms defiantly.

Dean raised an eyebrow knowingly and smirked wickedly, "Are you chicken?"

Immediately her pride reared up and she glared at him defiantly, "No!"

Bobby and John walked through the door 3 hours later to find every light in the house switched on. They cautiously wandered over to the doorway of the lounge room and peered inside, hands on weapons just in case. However instead of finding anything sinister or malicious, they found their two pre-teen children curled up together under a large blanket fort, holding rolling pins and butter knives and both trembling in fear.

* * *

_Summer 1989_

"Ready?" Bobby smiled, holding a hand gently over Hermione's eyes with a smile.

"Yes, just hurry up already!" she practically shouted in her impatience. Her dad looked up at where Sam and Dean were stood beside the heap of metal in the middle of the yard, the eldest securing a small red bow to the highest point proudly then nodding for them to proceed. Bobby sucked in an anxious breath as he uncovered her eyes and allowed her to see her birthday gift. He knew she'd like it, he just wished he was able to get her something better than a run down old car she wouldn't be able to use for a good six years anyway.

Her big honey-brown eyes blinked against the harsh sunlight and the heap of what most would call junk slowly came into focus. She gasped loudly as her hands instinctively came to her mouth in excitement.

Hermione spent most of her time reading, it was her passion. She loved all kinds of books; fictional ones about far off lands, instructional manuals for the appliances around the home, how-to ones on all kinds of subject. She liked magazines and short stories and poems and novels. Since she read as though words were air, she was far wiser than her mere ten years. To most she was a know-it-all, as she could list every capitol of every state, every animal on the food chain, every angel in the bible, every demon exorcism in both Latin and English, every make of car ever made. The last one was the easiest, for if there was just _one _subject she knew everything there was to know, it was cars and mechanics.

So when she spied the heap of off-yellow rusted scrap before her, her heart skipped a beat and her palms grew sweaty. "That's a '64 Falcon Futura," she stated breathlessly.

It had been her dream car ever since she had spied it in an old classic muscle car magazine of her fathers. She had begged him to keep an eye out ever since, but they were one of the rarer beasts out there to find. In the end it wasn't even Bobby who had found it.

Dean stepped forward, kicking around the dirt beneath his sneakers sheepishly. "Uh, it's only the frame. There's no engine, or transmission or brakes or anything, it'll need to be built pretty much from the ground up..." he told her apologetically.

"I..." she breathed, still not finding the words.

"Dean here found it a few weeks back while out with his Dad," Bobby stepped in mercifully. "It's gonna take a _lot_ of work, I don't think it'll be done until you're ready to drive it anyway. Thought it'd be nice for you to have a project of your own," he told her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

She let out an odd high-pitched squeak and spun, wrapping her arms around embarrassingly large waistline and hugging him, mumbling thanks into his dirty overalls. He pushed her off gently only for her to turn and launch herself into poor Dean's unsuspecting arms. He nearly toppled over as she crashed into him but her just barely managed to catch her and steady himself. "Thank you," she whispered, squeezing him tight.

He wasn't entirely sure how to respond, so he just held her tighter for a moment before letting her go, willing himself not to blush like an idiot. It was just a hug, after all. "Yeah well... Happy Birthday."

* * *

_Summer 1990_

'_oh oh oh sweet child of mine...'_

Hermione sang along to the radio from where she was laying across the newly installed leather seats of her car, one arm thrown over her eyes to block out the sun and her other drumming along with the beat on her stomach.

"Boo!" a voice suddenly shouted from somewhere behind her and she bolted up with a small scream, her arm reaching into her boot to pull out a small butterfly knife. "Woah, watch where you point that thing 'Mione!"

Her grip on the weapon slackened as she scrambled out of the half-built car, squinting into the light to see the newcomer. "Dean?" she asked, frowning in confusion. It took her a few moments to catch up but finally her face stretched out into a wide grin and she pulled him him into a hug. "_Dean_!"

"Heya Singer!" he held her close for a minute before pulling away enough to see her face. He observed her properly and smirked, fingering a springy curl of her brown hair. "What's with the hair?"

She took a step back, laughing it off as she ducked her head and patted down the frizzy mess as best she could. "Shut up," she groaned. "It just _happened_ one day and now it won't go away."

He laughed good-naturedly and shrugged, "Well it's not _terrible_..."

She smacked his arm then crossed her arms, leaning against the chipped paint of her beloved machine, cocking her head at him curiously. "What are you doing here? Is Sam with you?"

"'Course," he nodded, then narrowed his eyes playfully. "And have I ever missed a birthday?"

She smirked back at him and raised her eyebrows, "You mean apart from those two times you did?"

"...Well yeah," he muttered, rolling his eyes. He suddenly spread his arms out wide and plastered a ridiculous grin on his lips, "Happy Birthday!"

"So where were you this time?" she asked him, walking around to sit on the trunk and patting the space beside her for him to follow suit.

"Colorado," he divulged, looking up at the nearly cloudless sky. "A coven of witches doing human sacrifices." He smiled wickedly and told her proudly, "Dad let me help out. I took down 2 all by myself."

She chuckled at the way his chest puffed out and patted his back, "Good job."

He hesitated for a moment, his hand tentatively tucking into his pocket. "Ah, so after we ganked the last of 'em we went through their stuff, gathering it all up to burn."

"And?" she prompted gently when he paused.

"Well, I found this on a shelf and I thought of you. I studied it and had Dad and Sam check it and everything. It's definitely not cursed, and all the symbols are for protection and luck only, I swear..."

"What are you talking about?" she chuckled to stop him from rambling senselessly. He cleared his throat and finally pulled out his hidden hand to hold out a shiny silver charm bracelet. She took it gently and held it up to the light. About eight charms hung off it, with room for plenty more. She could see how it meant protection as she spied an anti-possession charm, a pentagram and the Aquarian Star among them. "Wow..."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck anxiously and watched her reaction carefully. "You like it?"

"I love it," she reassured him with one of her famous gentle smiles. She gestured for him to help her put it on, and he did so with a grin. "I'll never take it off," she swore, looking up with honesty filled eyes. "Thank you."

Dean opened his mouth to reply that it was nothing, when a strange noise interrupted him. They both swivelled their heads to where a large snowy white bird was perched on top of her father's work bench with what looked like a piece of paper in the grasp of it's tiny feet. "...Is that an owl?"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm changing some events from Harry Potter, like what happens Summer before fourth year. I really skimmed over her years at Hogwarts in this one, but that's because the real story is set during Supernatural. This is really just for background information. Hope you enjoy, the next one will be up within the next day or so.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Supernatural.**

* * *

"I can't believe you're leaving for a whole year," Bobby groaned, taking another deep chug of the whiskey on his bench.

"I'll be back at Christmas Dad," Hermione rolled her eyes, straightening her best top and hoping the grease stain on her jeans wasn't too noticeable. "The boys will be here soon."

"And?" he asked distractedly, focusing on the paperwork in front of him. Anything was better than thinking about the days ahead, he didn't know how he was going to cope. Rufus would be swinging around the day after tomorrow to go on a hunt, maybe he could convince him to take a few detours on the way.

"I'm sick of lying to them," she mumbled sadly, picking at a loose thread at her knee. Bobby looked up and sighed at her disheartened look. It had been hard for her to swallow, but once the nice teacher from her new school had spent far more time than necessary explaining that they were not by _any_ means connected to Wiccan practices and that she would be taught not only how to use and control her own abilities, but how to _defend_ herself from such dark arts, she had slowly warmed to the idea.

They had gotten all of her necessary supplies and books for the year, and she had read through them in little under three weeks. The one thing father and daughter agreed on was to not breathe a word of her true heritage to anybody, the Winchesters included. Hermione was hesitant to lie to them, but she knew even though Dean and Sam might have no problem with what she was word would eventually reach John and there was no way to predict how he would react. Bobby had put his foot down and told her that the story was she had gotten a full scholarship to a high school in Brittan, with all expenses and 'flights' paid for.

"I know," he told her, wishing things were different. "Sorry kid."

She shrugged half-heartedly and went back to reading her Potions book for the second time. A bright-side to the whole thing was that they didn't have to go to any extra effort to hide her schooling materials. It fit right in amongst the demon mythology and ancient spell books they had lying around the house anyway.

The teacher she had met, Professor McGonagall, had explained that while the Wizarding World was aware of the types of creatures such as demons and wendigos that Hunters fought, they had their own sets of evils to battle. She wasn't forbidden from discussing her Hunters life at home, however she was encouraged to keep it as quiet as possible and to not frighten anybody with stories of vampires and vengeful spirits.

The boys were coming to stay with Bobby for a day while John took care of a case a few miles out of town. It worked out well as Professor McGonagall was coming to transport her to Europe. She had never been outside of the country before, and was as nervous as she was excited.

"Are you sure you're ready for this? You've been home-schooled your whole life and now you wanna jump head first into a magical boarding school in another damn country?" Bobby suddenly exploded, taking off his cap and rubbing his forehead nervously.

She smiled gently and stood to her feet, her old red scuffed up chucks hitting the lino softly as she padded to the fridge to pull out a fresh cold beer. She handed it to him with a patient smile and placed her tiny hand consolingly on his shoulder. "Dad, I know it's gonna be hard – for both of us – but I really feel like this is what I'm meant to do. I'm ready, really," she assured him, patting his back slowly.

Bobby didn't say anything, just took a long drink of his bottle and sighed heavily. A muted knock sounded through the house and she shot across the kitchen and down the hall before he knew what had happened.

"Dean!" she yelled excitedly as she wrenched open the heavy wooden door (iron plated). She stopped short with a piercing disappointment in her gut when her eyes fell upon Professor McGonagall standing on her porch, her stereotypical pointed witches hat on her head and some black and green robes adorning her body. She had a small smile on her face, but looked at the house as though she might get a disease from simply touching the chipped paint and moulded wood. "Oh, Professor McGonagall. Sorry, I was expecting somebody else. You're early," she greeted pleasantly, pulling the door open wider and gesturing for her to enter.

"Thank you Hermione. I'm afraid there's business I must take care of shortly, therefore the trip will have to be made now," she told her regretfully as Bobby strode into the room, overhearing her words.

"Oh," Hermione frowned sadly, crossing her arms uncomfortably. "I was hoping to say goodbye to my friends..." she trailed off at the slightly sour look on her Professor's aging face. She liked the old teacher very much, she was kind and intelligent, however Hermione could tell she would be strict and hard when it mattered. She had never had a teacher that wasn't her father, so she was nervous about how she would handle the rules and harshness, but she was confident she could step up to the challenge. In fact she almost looked forward to it.

"I'm sorry dear, but we really are short on time," she told Hermione with a sympathetic frown. "You can mail them once you're settled in at Hogwarts."

She swallowed thickly, her gut churned with nerves and she had to blink away scared tears. She pasted a bright smile on her face and turned to look up at her Dad with as much happiness as she could fake. "I guess I'm leaving for Britain."

Less than an hour later the two Winchester boys darted into the practically empty house, looking around with wild eyes for Hermione only to be met with a depressed Bobby nursing a beer and staring at the peeling wall blankly.

* * *

_Year 1_

Hermione hadn't fit in right away; she didn't know why she expected she would have. The other kids said her hair was funny and her accent was weird. Some people found it frightening when she mentioned vengeful spirits could be repelled by salt and iron while in Defence Against the Dark Arts. It wasn't until a few months into the term that she had gone face to face with a Mountain Troll, only to be saved by those two boys Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. After that they had been more accepting of her, and they quickly became friends.

Ron had grown up in Wizarding Culture and he had to get used to her constant questions about simple everyday life things that she found so fascinating. Harry had grown up with Muggles and was usually just as curious. Both boys found the fact she came from America thrilling, and sometimes they giggled at the way she said certain words.

She wanted to do well in her classes so she read ahead constantly and was always the first to have her homework completed. She quickly became top in her classes, which she hadn't been expecting. People came to her asking for all kinds of academic help, which confused her at first but she soon found she loved having so many other students to discuss the course work.

She wrote home regularly. She loved to hear all about the hunts her dad and Rufus were going on and he loved to hear all about the Wizarding world and her studies. It was a few weeks before Christmas that she finally got word from Dean and Sam.

_Hermione,_

_How's the school? Have you made any friends yet? What kind of food do they eat over there? I hunted a Wendigo with Dad the other day and I took it down on my own while he helped the trapped kids. It was so awesome, I thought the flames would burn my face off I was so close! Sammy wanted you to know he was entered in a spelling bee and won. Someone mentioned he would be a good lawyer, and now he's studying up all about courts and laws. He loves reading so much he'd rather do that than come shooting with me and dad; I blame you for that._

_Bobby said you're coming home for Christmas, but we'll be in California around then. Hope you're having fun. I guess we'll see you next Summer?_

_Dean and Sam_

Sammy had signed his own name in his little-kid scrawl and she laughed sadly. She had barely thought of her friends at all now that she was caught up in this new life; she felt guilty for not missing them as much. It took her a week to write back. It shouldn't have taken very long at all but she'd had to try and find a way to tell them about the school without lying. She stuck to talking about Ron and Harry, all of the weird pets people had, and how the headmaster was a bit on the crazy side.

* * *

_Summer after year 3_

If Hermione thought it was hard not telling Sam and Dean about the whole Philosophers Stone incident, it was even harder not to talk about the Chamber of Secrets fiasco, especially when she hadn't returned any of their mail for months. Then the last year had happened and she'd travelled in time and saved lives and she couldn't mention a word of it.

Sam and Dean would write to her and talk all about how they'd saved a family of four from the twin vengeful spirits who lived in the house before them, and how they'd taken down a nest of Vampires in Detroit (even though Sam only did the research). She wanted to blurt out that she'd ridden a Hippogriff through the woods and how she'd saved her best friend from a real life werewolf; it killed her that she couldn't utter a word.

It sucked to only see them for a week or two every Summer and now she was going to be seeing not only them but Harry and Ron at the same time she wasn't sure how it was going to go. She paced the living room nervously. Bobby had had a fireplace installed while she was away that year at her suggestion. She'd tried to explain the flu network to him, but in the end he'd just taken her word for it and done as requested.

When she'd tumbled out of it in an explosion of green fire instead of arriving home accompanied by a teacher, he'd nearly had a heart attack.

Now, a week before term for the next year was supposed to start, she was pacing in front of the fireplace Ron and Harry were supposed to come through, along with Mr Weasley (but hopefully not the twins). They were staying for two days then they were all going back to the Weasley's so they could do their school shopping and return for year. It just so happened that their visit coincided with the only time Dean and Sam were able to come by Bobby's place to see her as John had dragged them up and down the east coast that summer to leads on _the_ demon that ended up being nothing.

She was worried one of them would slip up. Harry and Ron already knew not to mention anything about them being magical. Whilst she knew harry would be fine she couldn't shake the feeling that Ron, having never been around muggles for an extended period of time, would undoubtedly act strangely.

Her wizard friends knew about her 'hunting' life. They knew when she was home she hunted dark creatures with her muggle dad, she just had to hope they wouldn't dig too deep and find out all about demons and hell hounds and all of the other seriously creepy things they would rather not know.

"Hermione you're going to wear a hole in the floor," Booby sighed, looking up from Hogwarts: A History. He was fascinated by anything and everything magical. He had read every one of her school books twice and he'd given her extra money to buy him more books last time she'd gone to Diagon Alley.

"I'm just so nervous," she muttered, wringing her hands and pacing the length of the room again. Her accent had started to blend with the English one she'd been immersed in the past three years, it still took Bobby aback every time she said _Merlin's Beard_.

He rolled his eyes and turned back to his book, not getting half a paragraph before the fireplace exploded and he flinched violently, automatically reaching for his gun under in the desk. "Harry! Ron!" his daughter's voice stopped him and he put the book down, standing up to greet their guests as Hermione jumped on the newcomers happily, squeezing her best friends tight.

"Hullo Hermione!" an older, deeper voice greeted and she stepped back from the red ginger boy to greet his father warmly.

"Good afternoon Mr Weasley!" she grinned, shaking his large hand with both of hers. Bobby stepped forwards to introduce himself.

"Bobby Singer," he held out his hand awkwardly and the eager ginger wizard shook his hand enthusiastically.

"Arthur!" he told him, looking around his home with bright eyes. "So this is an American muggle home, hm?" His eyes ran over the roof-high shelves filled with books and the slightly dusty patchwork couch.

"I suppose," Bobby drawled, confused by the man's bright eyes and curious tone. He was looking around the room like it was a whole other planet. "'Mione why don't you take the boys bags to your room?"

"Sure," she grinned, pulling her bemused friends up the stairs, all of them laughing as they heard Mr Weasley respond to Bobby's suggestion of drinks, "Do you have any Butterbeer?"

The boys complimented her room shortly and Ron fell into her bed with a sigh. "I can't believe I'm in _America_."

She rolled her eyes and sat on her window seat while Harry scanned the titles of her books. "That's how I felt my first time in Britain." She looked at her clock and her eyes widened as she saw there was less than an hour until the Winchesters were set to arrive. "So you guys know the rules when my muggle friends get here, right?"

They rolled their eyes good naturedly. She'd gone over this a million times with them. "Yeah 'Mione, we know," Ron told her. "No magical talk, no acting like I've never seen a telephone, and no calling them muggles."

"Good," she nodded to herself and they all made their way back downstairs at Bobby's call.

They said their goodbye's to a reluctant to leave Mr Weasley, who dug out a handful of flu powder from the bag at his hip, stepped into the fireplace and shouted, "The Burrow!"

Once he had gone and the smoke had cleared Bobby left them to their own devices, telling them dinner was at seven and they were having pizza. Hermione gave a mischievous grin and asked if they wanted to learn to shoot a gun. Ron, having barely any clue what that was, nodded eagerly. Harry on the other hand paused doubtfully, "Why the bloody hell do you have guns?" he asked with wide eyes.

She laughed as she pulled out a simple shot gun and a packet of bullets from the desk, "It's one of the ways we hunt."

"Right," he nodded slowly, eyeing the weapon carefully. "I always forget you're some kind of G.I. Jane," he gave her a nervous grin and she giggled. Ron was confused by the reference but they didn't take the time to explain. She led them out back and explained more in-depth about Bobby's business as they stared at the cars in the salvage yard with awe. She took them through some trees and along a path until they came out at a clearing filled with cardboard, tins and bottles. Ron was still confused as Hermione explained that it was like target practice and a gun was kind of like a wand in the way that you had to aim and fire at something to have the desired effect.

She took the time to explain how incredibly dangerous it was, and how important it was to keep the front pointed _away_ from you and anyone you didn't want to kill. Ron asked her to do it first and she told him to cover his ears (Harry was already doing so, looking humorously frightened for the boy who faced Voldemort and lived).

She took off the safety, aimed the gun at the row of cans before her and fired in quick procession managing to get three out of five. Ron let out a loud, awed _'Wow'_ and Harry laughed in disbelief, shaking his head. They all turned at the sudden sound of clapping to see two boys leaning against the trees and smiling at them.

"Not bad Singer, but you're a little out of practice," the slightly taller one smirked as he walked up to her slowly. Sammy rolled his eyes at his brother and walked over to the two guys at the sidelines, introducing himself quietly.

"Oh, and you could do better, Winchester?" she asked, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small knife. He looked at the can to the right, aimed and threw it with ease so that it pierced the thin metal and knocked it off the ridge it was balanced on. It was silent for a tense moment as Hermione's foreign friends wondered how she would react. At Hogwarts, when somebody did something better than her she tended to get haughty then sulk for a few days. They were shocked when instead of a negative reaction her face split into a wide smile and she hugged the skilled newcomer warmly. "Dean!" she laughed. "You son of a bitch. How've you been?"

Harry and Ron were slightly taken aback by her casual use of the curse, but Ron couldn't help but be slightly impressed by it. "Same as always? You, little miss British education?"

She laughed heartily and rolled her eyes, turning him to introduce him to the boys. "Shut up. Dean, these are my best friends Harry Potter and Ron Weasley."

Harry got along surprisingly well with the brothers; they talked about football (a subject Hermione hadn't known he was all the knowledgeable about, though she supposed it made sense that his love of quidditch would manifest in some kind of muggle way). Ron on the other hand found himself at odds with the two muggles, having nothing to talk about other than the Wizarding world. They got on well enough, but he still stuck to Hermione's side like glue, too awkward to be left to fend for himself.

She was glad they got on, and the brother's ended up staying the whole time. They played chess and cards at night, Ron pulling Hermione aside to have a whispered conversation about Wizards chess versus American Muggle chess. She assured him everything was the same and the only difference was that you had to move the pieces by hand instead of with your voice.

If she had of known that weekend was the last peaceful, innocent time she would have without the weight of the world on her shoulders, she would have appreciated it more. She would have laughed harder when Ron got inexplicably wowed by the television when they'd put on some old cowboy film Dean picked out. She would have taken the dance Dean swept her up in more seriously when they turned on the radio and her favourite _Guns 'N' Roses_ song was playing. She would have revelled in teaching the great Harry Potter how to change the oil in her slowly coming together car. She would have memorised the slight lisp Sam had as he read from an instruction manual when he broke the wheel of the desk chair they then had to fix. Looking back, she'd say it was some of the best few days of her entire life.

* * *

_Summer after 6th year_

Hermione was buzzing with nerves. Barely a week until the Bill's wedding and she'd yet to figure out how to tell her Dad she wasn't coming back. She was out the back, tuning up her now completely finished and restored car when Dean walked around the corner having just come from target practice with Sam. "What's cooking, good looking?" he asked with a cheesy smirk that made her want to smack him.

"Just checking the brakes," she told him with a shrug. "Never know when I'm gonna get another chance."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked her, coming around to lean against the side of her car, admiring the red and gold pain job they'd done a few weeks ago at her insistence. Apparently they were her school's colours or something. He watched her work for a few more minutes, just taking the sight of her in. He had a bad feeling sitting in his chest, like something terrible was about to happen.

His eyes roamed her form as she crouched over her beloved car. She was wearing old jeans covered in paint stains with rips at the knees from so much wear. The shirt she was wearing was one of his favourite _Bad Company_ that he'd left here a few years back and she'd ended up withholding from him she'd loved it so much. She had a tiny grease mark above her right eyebrow from where she'd rubbed her forehead and smudged it there. Her hair had become more tame over the years and was no more a frizzy mass but instead a head of soft shoulder length curls that he loved; they nearly shone gold in the sun.

He was pulled from his reverie when she stood up abruptly and cleared his throat. "I don't mean anything Dean," she told him unconvincingly, her face too perfectly straight to be telling the truth. "Don't worry about it."

He opened his mouth to counter her claim when loud voices interrupted him. They couldn't make out words, and they both reached for any nearby weapons before simultaneously realising it was just their fathers. They frowned and made their way up to the back door, about to enter when it suddenly burst open and a seething John stepped out.

The glare he shot Hermione frightened her and she stepped back as dread filled her stomach. "Get your things son," he bit at Dean, never taking his eyes from her. "We're leaving _right now_."

With a final sneer he darted back inside to fetch Sam. Dean wasn't all that shocked, his father was never what he would call 'pleasant'. He sighed and turned to Hermione with a half-hearted smile. "Guess we're heading out," told her and leaned forwards to gather her in his arms.

Something about the embrace was different, and he hugged her like he wouldn't get another chance. She squeezed him just as tightly and rested her chin on his shoulder, not understanding why she felt so sad. "You be safe out there, you hear me?"

"And you be safe over with those Poms," he told her, a smile in his voice.

Her heart stuttered as she thought of everything she wished she could tell him. "Yeah," she responded weakly, pressing her face into his neck briefly before letting go. He gave her one more grin then was gone.

She waited until their car had been gone for a good ten minutes before reaching into her boot and pulling out her wand. Now she was seventeen she could use magic whenever she wanted. Bobby was still getting used to seeing dishes clean themselves and water appear out of nowhere, but he was proud of her for all she had learned and achieved.

She stepped off the porch and slowly started putting up all of the protection wards she could think of, doing it methodically and perfectly so her father had the absolute most protection possible. She pointedly ignored the soft tinkling of her charm bracelet, the newest charm Dean had gotten her was visible at her wrist and she refused to look at the little silver waterfall he'd bought her on their recent hunt at Niagara Falls. Once all the wards were completed she walked back inside and started on their dinner, meatloaf with a light salad.

The phone rang and she walked over to the walls, picking up the shrilling one labelled FBI and holding it to her ear as she poured herself a small glass of firewhiskey. "FBI, Director Crane speaking."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So this chapter begins the real 'plot'. It is set somewhere at the beginning of season 3 of Supernatural.**

_Georgia, 2007_

She held up her handgun, steadying her aim with her other wrist and taking the shot all in the space of a few seconds. The bullet landed in the demons head just above its right eyebrow. Harry slashed with the rusty dagger he'd been able to grab, fighting their way into the warehouse. They'd forgone the wands until absolutely necessary; the place was full of hunters who were more than likely to shoot first and ask questions later when magic was involved.

She kicked one in the gut and made them crouch over long enough to press the barrel of the gun into their neck and shoot. The bullets had been enchanted to paralyse anybody who touched them, so a kill shot wasn't entirely vital for the moment. A younger female demon sprinted towards her, and as she focused on the coming attack she failed to notice the one appear at her side, giving him time to strike her in the head. It was wearing a heavy ring that split the smooth skin of her forehead and sent her to the ground. She flipped over and aimed for his head only to be stopped by that other demon when she kicked her hard in the ribs which could only be steel capped boots. Hermione yelped in pain but was quick to take the legs out from under one of them, she wasn't sure which.

She aimed up and shot the one still standing in the chest and was rewarded with a waterfall of blood coming down over her face and woollen jumper. She blinked it out of her eyes and watched as Harry swooped down and slit the other ones throat before she had to handle it.

He helped her to her feet hurriedly and she spun wildly in anticipation of the next attack. They were both caught by surprise by the sudden and severe _lack_ of demons in the courtyard. Some must have run away, the number of bodies left was significantly less than what they had begun with. "They're trying to lure us into a false sense of security," she mumbled to Harry, peering around cautiously.

"Hermione, just say it's a trap," Harry hissed back. She didn't blame him, they were both on edge. "What do we do?"

"Bugger if I know."

"Well we can't just stand here," he told her seriously, shifting his weight between his feet anxiously. "Let's just go for it."

"Wands?" she inquired almost silently, not second guessing his judgement for a moment. He didn't reply verbally, just shook his head negative and gestured to the door. Guns before knives, was the rule.

She scrambled in her pockets for more ammo and quickly reloaded her weapon, cringing at how sticky the blood was making her hands. Harry made some hand signals and she nodded curtly and led him over to the large side door. He took his place in front of it and she leant out of the way against the hot tin, cringing away from the blinding sun. Harry counted down silently before putting all his weight and strength (and maybe just a hint of non-verbal magic) into a kick that smashed open the lock and made them swing open. With out a second thought she spun into the now clear doorway, barely hesitating to shoot anybody that wasn't behind bars.

They'd gotten word from Bobby the day before last about extreme demon activity in the area as well as the sudden disappearance of several hunters. He didn't want them going, but he knew people's lives could depend on them and their magical ability. It hadn't taken them long to track them to this warehouse in the middle of nowhere in Georgia. Harry had been doing surveillance from under the invisibility cloak and had seen them drag a well known hunter by the name of Jackson in there with his hands tied.

It looked like the demons were working with shifters, because when they tracked the last known sighting of Jackson they'd found his hunting partner and cousin, Jerry, tied up in a sewer. That explained how so many pro's got taken down; the shifters were appearing as their loved ones then catching them off guard or leading them into a trap. They'd blasted the place with a spell that had been designed to knock out shifters, but the demons would keep their vessels standing, so they'd had to use the enchanted bullets instead.

They didn't know why the demons were capturing hunters, but it looked like it was some kind of science related thing as there were hunters in cages around the place and there were tables with beakers and bloodied knives here and there. The good thing about that fact was it made it least likely there would be too many dead.

Once Hermione had expertly shot the guards milling around, Harry came running in behind her and threw his dagger right into the chest of a guy in a coat to their right. Three demons came at Hermione at once and she was only able to hit one before running out of fire. She cursed loudly just before the gun was knocked out of her hands and she was socked in the jaw by the large blond guy who grinned maliciously at her pained grunt. She slipped between them and kicked one between the legs, he was down for only a few seconds and she was disappointed by how little effect her action had had.

"A little help?!" she yelled at Harry as she was kicked in the gut again. She spun around in rage and was able to land three punches to the shorter one's head and a kick at the big ones abdomen.

"Merlin's balls Hermione, I'm a little busy!" he screamed back. She didn't dare take the time to glance his situation but she was able to find the time to swipe the dagger from her boot and slice it through the small ones throat. A gurgling, choking noise came from him as he went down and she made the mistake of pausing.

The other one ran ran at her without hesitance. She only just moved in time to block his attack, but it caught her arm badly. She grunted in pain and winced, knowing there'd be a bruise there for a while. She kicked him in the shin which knocked him back several steps and gave her enough time to steady herself and clutch her knife steadily.

Luckily this fight didn't last long as soon enough Harry was rushing over and bashing in her opponents skull. Blood splattered her already ruined clothes and she huffed, pocketing her dagger tiredly. "Took you long enough," she mumbled to him, and he rolled his eyes at her. She stretched her arms and made her way over to the cage to her far left, reaching up into her thick curls as she did so and pulling out a bobby-pin.

"Hold your horses," she mumbled to a particularly burly hunter who grunted at her to hurry up. She picked the lock with ease and let the metal door creak open, allowing the rowdy hunters to spill out. There were about twenty in total.

Some stopped to shake their hands and thank them, exchanging in light conversation but most just held their head high and scowled, storming out into the sunlight haughtily.

Once the last of them had left the room, Hermione sighed and rubbed her aching forehead. "Ungrateful muggles," she grumbled to Harry, who chuckled dryly.

"Hermione?" a somewhat familiar voice drifted through the room and she started, apparently she was wrong and not everyone had left the room yet. She spun around to answer them and was frozen in place by the sight she was met with.

Two tall figures were standing in the doorway to the largest cage, both covered in bruises and blood. The tallest looked young, his hair was shaggy and he looked sad. His eyes were haunted, but strikingly familiar. He was wearing a torn red plaid top and dirty old jeans.

The shorter (but still freakishly tall) one was more angular. His hair was short and spiky and he wore a thick green jacket and jeans with rips at the knees from wear. His eyes were green. Not like Harry's, who might as well have been glittering emeralds when they caught the sun. they were a softer, more natural green. The kind she had dreamt about for years.

She shakily lifted her right hand to her head and brushed a stray curl from her gaze. "Yes?" she asked, sounding more British than she meant to. Her charm bracelet rattled at the movement and she saw his eyes dart to it and widen significantly.

"Hermione!" he repeated and before she knew what was happening she was being swept up into a massive bear hug. Her arms wrapped around her shoulders to steady herself and his clutched to her waist like he thought she was going to disappear. He buried his face into her hair and she was almost positive he sniffed it.

"Um..." she muttered, trying to place his familiar husky voice. She knew it well, and her thoughts sifted through the lighter time in her life, knowing he wasn't from her years in the magical community.

"You still wear the bracelet," he mumbled almost to himself rather than to her and she barely contained a gasp as her gaze flickered down to the assortment of charms she had collected over the years.

"_Dean_!" she cried aloud and tugged him to her, nuzzling her face into the familiar warmth of his skin. "Merlin's beard, it's really you!"

"I can't believe this," he laughed gleefully, and she could feel his cheerful smile.

Suddenly she remembered where they were and what he had most likely been through and she reared back from the embrace, grabbing his arms tightly and looking over him worriedly, checking for injuries. "Are you hurt?" she blurted, concerned and anxious for his well-being.

As she stared at him she couldn't help but notice how much he'd changed and grown over the years they hadn't seen each other; nearly eleven if she counted correctly. He'd lost all traces of baby fat and was now muscled and lean, his cheekbones were high and his nose sharp. His eyelashes were positively lethal and he had the most perfect cupids bow. She blinked and scolded herself, remembering where she was.

"I'm fine," he told her in the sinfully husky tone of his. He looked behind him briefly, his forehead creasing in worry. "Sammy took most of the hits."

Her eyes widened again but she knew she shouldn't have been so shocked, Dean would never have gone anywhere without his little brother. She followed his gaze and very nearly choked at the giant she saw standing there.

"No bloody way," she cried, blinking in shocked. The man ducked his head sheepishly. "There's no way you're Sammy Winchester."

The handsome boy grimaced and corrected her, "It's _Sam_."

Her face lit up in a bright grin and she launched herself at him, hugging the lean hunter around the chest; the highest point she could reach. She squeezed him tightly, and the large man was actually taken aback by her strength.

"'Mione?" Harry suddenly asked, standing a good distance back from the strangers and watching hesitantly.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, pulling back sheepishly and rushing to his side, grabbing his hand and tugging him over. "Harry, this is Dean and Sam Winchester, remember? You met them the summer you came round mine."

He still watched them carefully and suspiciously, but trusted Hermione's judgement. "Hello again," he nodded politely, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Man, Bobby mentioned you were back in the states and hunting again, but I could barely believe it," Dean smiled at Hermione after nodding in acknowledgement at Harry. She shrugged back in response, not knowing what to say. She sure as hell couldn't explain her decision to go back to the life. Dean pursed his lips thoughtfully at her uncomfortable expression and quickly changed the subject. "So which hotel are you guys crashing at tonight, we should go out for drinks to celebrate not dying!"

She felt a slight flair of panic before calm indifference overtook her and she wondered how she could have possibly let herself get so carried away. They'd apparated here, and were planning on leaving the same way as soon as they were done. She did the only thing she could do and told as much of the truth as she possibly could under the circumstance, "Not staying at one, we're leaving right away."

"Really?" Sam asked, his head tilting and face scrunching up in something mixed between confusion and disappointment. She could only hope he wouldn't pull the puppy-dog eyes on her.

"Yeah, we've got a long drive ahead of us," Harry interjected, placing a hand on her upper back in what she assumed was intended to be reassurance. His British accent was clear and thick, Hermione's having melted away to her American twang from speaking with the brothers.

"Ah come on," Dean continued eagerly, glowing green eyes not leaving Hermione's. He smiled in that familiar charming way he did and her stomach clenched. "We've missed you, Mione. Give us a minute to catch up."

She inwardly sighed, she was tried and a little sore from the blows she'd received. She knew she'd be in a crap load of pain tomorrow. She could help feeling light and happy about the idea of spending more time with Dean. She'd missed him more than she cared to admit. Harry shrugged and looked at Hermione, indicating that he didn't mind either way and it was her decision.

She allowed a small smile to grace her lips and nodded her agreement. "Awesome!" Dean grinned and moved over to her, hooking an arm over her shoulders and pulling her towards the exit. She went with him willingly, unsure whether to be reluctant or excited. Either way, she knew she was in for one hell of a night.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey wonderful people. I know the time skip was a bit to take, but it's like that for a reason, everything that happened in the skipped time you'll either hear about or see in a flashback. All in good time. Also, Dobby is alive in this story, but that's the only huge change I've made in regards to deaths in the war. There's a reason he's alive, which you'll find out in a few chapters time. Here we go.**

* * *

Hermione slid into the booth in the corner of the tacky 80's themed bar and grill. Harry immediately slid in beside her and she looked up and Dean got in opposite her with Sam on his other side. She had pretty quickly warmed to the idea of spending time with the brothers, she hadn't really thought of them in a while and even she was surprised by how much she'd missed them. "How'd the great Dean Winchester manage to get caught, anyway?" she asked him, a teasing smile on her lips and she shrugged off her jacket and folded it on her lap.

"Can't win 'em all," he scowled, which she took to mean he was too embarrassed to tell her so she let it go and looked up at the perky waitress as she popped up at the table, her beady eyes glued to Sam. Hermione never thought she'd see the day women were lusting after _little Sam Winchester_.

"What can I get you folks?"

"I'll have a bacon burger, extra bacon. Sam here will have the chicken salad. Two beers please," Dean ordered for he and his brother then looked expectantly at the two friends.

Hermione looked at Harry in confirmation and he nodded in agreement, "Just two burgers and two beers for us thanks." She nodded and scribbled the order down on her notepad, scurrying off to another table close by.

She looked up at the brothers and smiled awkwardly, wondering where to go from here. "So how long have you two been together?" Dean asked after a few tense moments. A weird chocking noise came from Harry while Hermione blinked in shock before grimacing and chuckling.

"Uh, no," she shook her head. "Very smooth Dean, but not even close. We live together, but we're just friends."

"Live? As in, at a house?" he asked her, furrowing his eyebrows. She felt slight sympathy for him, she knew how crazy and alien the concept of a home was like for those two. She'd had so many home's over the years; her dad's, Hogwarts, The Weasley's, her own home now. All Dean and Sam had ever had were their car, and Bobby's to some small extent.

"Yeah, we've got a place over in Baltimore," she told them with a small smile. "Harry's parents left him a shit load of cash so he bought a mansion for us to set up our own base camp."

Harry shot her an annoyed look and rolled his eyes. "It's not a _mansion_, 'Mione. It's a four bedroom, two bathroom. Which, in comparison to the Weasley's, is practically nothing."

She rolled her eyes right back and looked at Dean, who was staring at her with a look she couldn't really place. "What?" she asked him self-consciously.

He shrugged and changed the subject. "So what have you been up to these past few years? Did you finish school?" She dropped her gaze to her hands which had wrung together tightly at the question. She cleared her face so as to not give away too much information and shook her head. Sam's eyes widened and he leaned his gigantic body over the table to stare at her seriously.

"Hermione, you studied more than _I _did," he told her. "Why would you stop school?"

"You know how it is," she told them flatly, tapping an anxious rhythm on the table top. "_The life_. It just... gets in the way."

"You're telling me," Dean muttered just as the waitress appeared and handed the beers out around the table, saying something about their food being on the way.

"So what about you two?" Harry asked, saving Hermione from the path the conversation had previously been taking. "Any exciting hunts recently?"

So the night was filled with the four exchanging hunting stories. Sam and Dean told them all about the yellow-eyed demon and how they'd finally defeated him after all these years. They hesitantly told them about the demons they accidentally let free and how they were trying to stop them and contain it all. Hermione and Harry told them about the Octopus Cult based in North Carolina and how it'd taken them three years to find the head of the whole thing and take him down and stop him from dealing seriously cursed objects to unsuspecting innocent soccer mums and dads. They told them about the three werewolves that had taken them a whole month to track them and by then they'd killed thirty people.

It wasn't all doom and gloom and stories of mass killings though. Harry told them about a time a ghost thought Hermione was his six year old daughter and kept leaving mouldy barbie dolls in her car. Sam told them about when they'd found a cursed rabbit's foot and all of the craziness that happened with it. Hermione told them about an eleven year old that had gotten hold of a spell book and used it to make all her dreams come true, including unicorns being real and everyone calling her princess. Dean told them about the time they'd had to face evil clowns, which were Sam's greatest fear, and how hilarious it'd ended up being.

They stayed there, laughing and talking and laughing some more. They'd only gotten through a few beers each, focusing mostly on the company and conversation. Harry was surprised at how well he got on with the brothers, he'd expected to feel somewhat out of the loop but he'd fitted in almost instantly. The boys liked to mock his accent and some of the British expressions he mentions, but Hermione was there to back him up with explanations and embarrassing stories like the time Sam saw Jaws and refused to even swim in pools for another three years.

Finally the bar closed and they were kicked out after a small squabble over who was to pay the tab. Dean won after pulling the age card and walked out into the night with a smug grin. Sam started walked down a side street that lead to their car and Harry kept speed with him as they chatted about some myth over in Washington involving some sort of spirit haunting a park.

Dean held back and walked at a much slower pace to talk with Hermione in private. "You know, I was kicking myself for years for losing contact with you," he admitted sheepishly, nudging her hip with his own playfully.

"Me too," she replied, slipping into a fully American accent and nudging him back with a smirk. They were quiet for a moment before said something that made her stomach drop.

"You've changed, you know," he told her in an odd tone. She bit the inside of her cheek and stuck her hand in her pocket, drawing both comfort and guilt from touching her wand. "Not in a bad way or anything, it's just... you've got _the look_. You know, the 'I've seen shit you can't imagine' look." she didn't say anything back, just shrugged and glanced at the sky, disappointed she couldn't see the stars like you could at Hogwarts. The biting wind blew a wayward curl across her face and she withdrew her hand from the warmth of her pocket to hook it behind her ear. "So whatever happened to the ginger kid?"

She sucked in a deep breath, a pain like a stab wound striking through her chest. She swallowed against it and struggled to keep her emotions under control. "Uh, we dated for a while. Then we were hunting some members of a... magical cult. Not the one we were talking about earlier, a different one. Harry killed the leader but some of his psycho followers hung around, tried to avenge his death. It was just a routine sweep, but he was, uh, killed."

She ducked her head so he wouldn't see the pain on her face. He stood straighter, he hadn't been expecting that answer. "Oh," he said softly, unsure how to continue. Looking at her now, curled into herself and looking at the ground she looked so much like she did when she was seventeen. Of course she had grown, and God had she _grown_, but if he squinted just right it was almost like no time had passed at all and they were still standing out in Bobby's junk yard with beers as they looked at the stars and argued about whether a gorilla or a crocodile would win in a fight. "I'm sorry Hermione."

She looked up at him and he realised her eyes weren't shining with tears like he'd expected, she just looked exceptionally sad. Her expression changed to sympathetic. "I'm sorry about your dad."

He shrugged too and felt like there was no other way to finish the conversation then to hug her, so he stepped closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders and one resting on the back of her head. He was silently surprised by how soft her hair was but he pushed that from his mind, tucking her head into his neck and squeezing her. It took a moment, but she finally hugged him back too, almost desperately in fact.

"I really missed you Dean," she whispered to him and he pressed his face into her hair, unintentionally getting a whiff of her scent. She smelled like lavender and ash, an odd combination.

"You too 'Mione," he admitted, eventually pulling away, although regretfully. "We're not loosing touch this time though, you hear me?"

She stepped away and realised they were only a few yards from the Impala where Harry and Sam were still chatting, obviously giving them the space they needed. She pulled out her phone and handed it to him. He mirrored the action and they put their numbers in each other's phones, Dean adding Sam's and Hermione adding Harry's too.

"Where're you parked?" Dean asked once they were done and within hearing distance of the other two.

"Oh just a few blocks over, we can walk no problem," Harry told Dean, holding his hand out for a shake as Hermione hugged Sam.

"If you're sure."

"Don't hesitate to stop by if you're in Baltimore you two. In fact I demand it, no hotels in B-more, okay?" she looked at them seriously, making sure they agreed. "I'll text you the address."

"We'll be seeing you _soon_," Sam confirmed. "First sign of a hunt we'll burn rubber."

"You better," she playfully scowled then smiled when he rolled his eyes. He shook Harry's and slid into the car with a smile over his shoulder. Dean ruffled her hair and winked at her, making her stomach seize up at the familiarity of the gesture. She grinned back at him and watched as he got in his beloved baby and drove off into the night. They waited a whole minute before disapparating home, just to be sure their secret was safe.

* * *

_**2 Weeks Later**_

_Maine, 2005_

"Harry watch out!"

"_Confringo__!"_

"_Anapneo_!"

"Blimey Hermione, watch the arm."

"It's getting away!"

"_Stupify!_"

All was silent. The pair of Hunters stood stock still, staring at the creature with their wands at the ready. There was a long, tense moment and no movement occurred. Harry let out a sigh and lowered his wand tiredly, Hermione following his action. She pocketed it and wiped her dirty hands on her even dirtier jeans. "You know, it wouldn't have been so hard to catch if you hadn't insisted we stop for dinner," she scowled at him disapprovingly.

"Well it hardly matters now," he frowned right back, not in the mood for a fight.

Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, knowing she'd be shaking when the adrenaline ran out. It had to be nearly below freezing. She gazed at the stunned wendigo on the frosty ground in front of them and sighed. "It used to be human you know," she sighed, squeezing herself tighter.

"So did Voldemort," Harry shrugged indifferently, but she knew her best friend too well and could see the hesitance and pain hidden in his glowing green eyes. At the mention of Tom Riddle the air dropped a further several degrees and her spine automatically straightened. Harry was affected too, and his careful gaze hardened. She knew what was coming and she blocked out everything, turning her sight up to the patch of sky only just visible through the tree tops to gaze at the sparkling stars blankly.

She didn't hear him utter the curse, but she saw the red spell glow around the clearing as it hit the immobile beast with perfect accuracy, killing it instantly.

* * *

She barely felt it as she apparated to their modest home in Baltimore. She took off her thick purple sweater and hung it up in the hall cupboard. Their phone was in mid-ring when they appeared and Harry rushed to find it, shrugging off his own jacket on the way. She heard the sounds of her greeting and exchanging pleasantries with the caller and tutted to herself, picking up the discarded clothing and hanging it up with her own.

Harry appeared in the doorway, holding the house phone out expectantly. "It's your Dad."

She gave him a half-hearted smile and took it from him, heading up the stairs to the sanctuary of her room. "Evening Dad," she greeted softly as she pushed open the smooth oak door.

"'Mione," he returned with a smile in his gruff voice. Her lips twitched as she felt herself calm slightly, just hearing her father's voice did wonders for her emotional toil. "Harry said you got that wendigo in Maine?"

"Yes," she told him as she slowly took a seat at her mahogany desk. She reached up and slid off the hair-tie holding up her wavy locks, nearly sighing aloud at the relief of pressure when she did.

"And?"

"And what?" she asked, furrowing her delicate brow and tapping a random rhythm on her leg.

"How'd it go ya idjit?" he prompted in a near growl.

She rolled her eyes at his impatience. "As well as every other hunt Dad," she told him tiredly, barely containing a yawn.

"Tired?"

"Extremely," she uttered, her accent slipping between American and British as it so often did.

"Well I'll let ya go. Get some rest, I'll ring ya the day after next with a new hunt," he told her, his voice softening. "And if it gets too late and ya haven't slept, take some of that damn magical sleep potion."

"You mean sleeping draught?" she chuckled at his unsureness.

"Yeah that," he uttered, sounding very much like a put-out teenager.

She chuckled again, her smile a tad lighter than before. "I will. Love you."

"You too," he replied and wished her sweet dreams before the dial tone was heard. She felt her shoulders drop with exhaustion but she knew before anything else she needed a shower. She got a pair of long pyjama pants and an old _Weird Sisters _top that she thinks used to be Ginny's then made her way into her own bathroom. When her and Harry had bought the house (Harry had really bought most of it, he _was _in a better financial situation in the end. She made up for it by furnishing most of it, and taking care of the interior decorating since Harry couldn't care less) they had actually had a fight over who got the main bedroom with the attached bath. They had flipped a coin, but Harry had won that then wouldn't accept it. In the end the very nearly threatened her into taking it, saying he had absolutely no need of all the extra room.

Neither did she, but he'd insisted.

She kept the decorating very simple; it mainly consisted of reds and browns. She'd gone to IKEA for a lot of it, but one or two items she'd found at a garage sale she happened to stop by on a hunt in Illinois. Over the past five years her and Harry had worn it in, and now it held a lovely mix of muggle and wizarding life.

They had a television and some sort of game console Harry had gotten hooked on a year or so back. They had electrical lights, and a microwave and a lawn mower. The study was filled with magical books plus their favourite muggle novels and held more quills and parchment than fountain pens and paper. They each had a laptop and mobile phone, but their dishes still did themselves, and their pet was still an owl. Mrs Weasley had bought Harry a new one after the war, a pretty little brown thing he'd named Occulous.

The house was really larger than they needed, but they'd made do. The extra living room (two really was over the top and unnecessary) had been turned into their 'hunting room' and was filled to the brim with maps and books and cauldrons with ingredients and muggle weapons, plus warded with charms and spells to keep it safe, hidden and protected.

There were four bedrooms, and the only reason Hermione had let that go was because Harry had reasoned that if the Weasley's ever came to stay, there'd barely be enough room as it was. They'd offered Dobby one of the spare rooms, but he'd preferred the crawl space in the wall behind the study. He'd apparated Hermione into it once and she'd been nearly stunned to tears at the sight of it. He'd made it his own little home, with a small padded chair and a radio, one half of the space packed with as many blankets and pillows that could fit. He even had a picture hanging on the wall of the trio when they'd been in school, all smiling and laughing together on a loop.

Her sleepy train of thought broke when the water started to turn cold. She'd barely noticed how much time had past. She stopped the now cool water and stepped from the shower, drying herself off with her favourite fluffy purple towel and dressing quickly before putting on the body lotion Bill and Fleur had gotten her for Christmas.

She wandered back into her room and lit the candles with a flick of her wand. While they had lights all over the house they still preferred natural candle light to that of the muggle electrical sort. She was just about to settle in with a good book when Harry knocked on her door tentatively. He entered at her call rather meekly and held up _Jurassic Park._ "Want to watch it with me?"

She really was tired, but she couldn't say no to his pleading face so she sighed and nodded, but smiled at him comfortingly. He came over to the bed and playfully conjured an extra ten pillows, much to her amusement. He sat down beside her with his back up against her headboard and began the film.

Halfway through the movie, just when the T-rex had gotten out of it's enclosure, there was a loud and startling banging on the front door. The two of them were up and racing immediately, grabbing their wands and apparating downstairs, ready to defend themselves. Harry pushed Hermione behind him, ignoring her disapproving scowl and walked forwards, holding his breath and opening the door.

They were both surprised when Dean and Sam fell through the doorway, blood covering them both. Hermione gasped aloud and dropped her wand on a side table, rushing towards them without thought. "Sam! Dean! What happened? Where are you hurt?"

"It's Sam!" Dean told her, his voice breaking as he said it. "We're being followed, we couldn't go to a hospital."

"It's okay, it's fine," she soothed him then turned to Harry, taking charge as she so often did in these situations. "Harry take them to the guest room and get Sam set up in bed, I'll check the _protections_ then go clean his wounds. As soon as he's comfortable I want you to show Dean where we keep all our weaponry. We're not risking running out to the Impala. Got it?"

"Yeah, absolutely," Harry agreed and lead a moaning Sam and a distraught Dean up to one of their spare rooms. As soon as they were out of sight Hermione sent a spell around the house, stopping anything actively magical; the broom sweeping by itself in the lounge room, the moving photo's. Dobby also would have felt it, and they had an agreement that when that happened he stayed in his space because they had muggle company.

She quickly checked the wards were secure around their house before rushing around the workroom in search for all the things she'd need to help Sam, some magical and some not. She wasn't sure what was about to happen, but she wasn't too confident in any of it going well.

**A/N: There's nothing important relating to the story in this AN, I just wanted to say that the last two chapters have been in the works for a while but I've been struggling to get the done as I suffer from depression and anxiety, and I just wanted to say to anyone else who suffers these things that it's okay and you will get better. I have horrible days and I also have the best days in the world. Some days I don't even _want_ to get better, depression is a scary thing. I find it helps to write, its escapism and it really lifts your moods. If anyone wants to talk, I'm always here and would love to hear from you. So I had some bad days recently, I was in hospital and stuff for a while, but I'm back and feeling great and doing some serious writing. Thanks for your ongoing support and interest. I love all you guys :)**


End file.
